


What's Your Colour?

by APerfectGrace



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 10:54:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2226426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APerfectGrace/pseuds/APerfectGrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam was terrified, Castiel was wide-eyed and Dean was downright hysterical.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's Your Colour?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mrlcoleman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrlcoleman/gifts).



“I told you!” Dean yelled as they burst into the room, panting heavily. “I _told_ you this was a fucking bad idea!”

Loud bangs drifted from above, making Sam warily glance upwards as he tried to catch his breath. He had a cut above his left eyebrow.

“Dean,” Castiel said calmly, using what little of his grace he had left to lock the door shut without as much as a backwards glance. “Now is not the time for ‘I told you so’s.”

He then strode over to the walls, checking the crumbling plaster for weak points. His face was worn and wearied, and he leant heavily on his right side. Meanwhile, Sam had noted an open window, striding over to shut it but finding it tightly wedged open.

“Now is _exactly_ the time for ‘I told you so’s!” Dean shot back, gesturing wildly with his machete. “Didn’t I say it was a bad idea to come in here without a back-up plan? Didn’t I?”

“Shut up for a second and help me get this window shut, will you?” Sam growled, struggling with the window, sealed open by years of neglect and decay and rotting wood.

Dull thudding could be heard overhead, making the ceiling fixtures rattle precariously. The noises seemed to be moving away and quietening down in a way that they realised meant that whatever the fuck it was, was heading towards the stairs.

Down. To them.

“ _Dean!_ ”

He was startled out of his thoughts at the sudden outburst, leaping into action and moving over to help his brother.

“We cannot stay here,” Castiel surmised as he watched them finally close the window with a little elbow grease. “We will die otherwise.”

“Well, mojo us out then!”

The angel levelled him with a pointed stare. “My grace hasn’t fully regenerated yet. You know this.”

“An angel with run-down batteries,” Dean muttered, throwing his hands up in the air sarcastically. “ _Great_.”

“This is _your_ fault,” Castiel retorted acidly, turning away from the walls to the centre of the room.

“ _My_ fault? How is this _my_ fault? I had no desires to come in here!”

“Yes, but you–”

A huge crash exploded from the end of the corridor, making them all jump violently. Sam reflexively cocked the gun in his hand and Dean’s fingers curled tighter around the handle of his blade.

Weird snuffling noises were getting louder, accompanied by the sound of metal scraping on wood. It made Dean’s skin prickle unpleasantly.

“We need an escape plan,” Sam hissed, looking around furtively as if it would somehow help him out this situation.

“Preferably now,” Castiel added, eyes trained on the door from where the noises were getting louder.

“How?” Dean whispered in a panic. “How are we gonna get out?”

A sudden laugh erupted from just behind the door. Castiel visibly shuddered. The noise made Dean sick to his stomach.

“We need to think of something, something that–”

All of a sudden, the door seemed to explode inwards, sending all three of them catapulting to the floor from the force, dust shooting into the air and whiting everything out.

Coughing and spluttering, they up righted themselves, eyes tearing at the intrusive cloud.

The dust began to instantaneously settle, revealing four large figures slowly advancing towards them.

Four figures. Four colours. Two guns. A knife. A crowbar.

Dean whimpered, his nightmares coming to life before his very eyes. Castiel was staring at them, wide-eyed, and the blood had drained from Sam’s face.

The figures stepped forward into the centre of the room, and Dean’s stomach jolted disgustingly as they each identified themselves, regardless of the fact that their identities had been stamped into his brain forever.

Blue. “Tinky-Winky.”

Green. “Dipsy.”

Yellow. “La-La.”

Red. “Po.”

“Oh, fuck,” Dean moaned hysterically. “This is it. _This_ is how I’m gonna die. I’m gonna get murdered by the fucking Teletubbies.”

“I don’t know what those are,” Castiel whispered, terrified. “They look like something out of a children’s book.”

“More like children’s nightmares,” Sam muttered viciously, eyes moving across each weapon in their hand.

The four figures took a step forwards, and the three of them mirrored their action with a step backwards, fear and panic etched across their faces.

“If we live through this, no one is ever gonna know about this,” Dean said savagely, his eyes darting from one to the other. “Got it?”

Sam and Castiel murmured their agreement feverishly, hands closing around their weapons.

Tinky Winky cocked his gun, releasing the safety catch.

Dipsy swung his crowbar from left to right.

La-La rested her gun on her shoulder, tilting her head to the side.

Po twisted her knife in between her hands, the dim light setting a malicious shine upon the curve of it.

Dean felt like he was going to pass out.

“Only one question left,” Sam said, raising his gun.

“What’s that?”

His face set into a grim expression, and Castiel moved into a fighting stance. Slowly, Sam looked at Dean. “What’s your colour?”

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my Baby G :)
> 
> She specifically requested 'Dean Winchester & murderous Teletubbies', and what she wants, she gets... :)


End file.
